


Broken Rules

by CactusAtHeart



Series: Broken Rules & Woven Bonds [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Desk Sex, Fluff, M/M, Office Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Smut, Sneaking Around, Top Bang Chan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29554026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CactusAtHeart/pseuds/CactusAtHeart
Summary: The relationship between the skilled CFO, Bang Christopher Chan, and Lee Minho, the chairman's son has been forbidden by Mr. Lee; but that doesn't mean those two wouldn't find ways to be together, late at night, in the riskiest place they could find in the company building.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: Broken Rules & Woven Bonds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180862
Comments: 5
Kudos: 110





	Broken Rules

“Chris?” His shushed voice licked at the darkness in the vast room, “You in here?” Clicking the door shut behind himself, the vigorous rays of white were cut off and the soft noise of a lock slipping in place came next. Besides the stammering, weak city lights emitting in through the full height windows on the length of the office, nothing aided his sight.

As his short steps tried to make sense of the dim path, a gentle thudding poked at his ear, yet he had no time for processing the new stimuli when a firm grip attached to him from his left and pulled on his figure, backwards and backwards until the warm wall nailed him in spot. Now, view pointed towards the naked glass in this new spot, he could make out a broad shadow standing painfully close to him, embellished by a bitter, cool scent which he recognized as the cologne he himself had purchased some time ago; thumps banging at his ribcage, Minho smiled and situated his head against the hard surface behind himself in order to allow the dark figure to stick flush to his body and catch his moistened lips in a desperately dominating manner.

“Took you long enough!” The familiar voice taunted upon splitting from their kiss. Although there was no actual possibility that the glue between their bodies would loosen at any rate, Minho still couldn’t bring himself to take that chance, therefore linking his hands behind the waist at his access.

“Had to greet some old pal of my dad’s.” He considered it enough of an explanation to have him avert his attention elsewhere, “Fuck, you’re already so hard!” The stiff poke against his right hipbone made his exclamation morph into a sigh, forehead leaning unto Chan’s through an unspoken sense of serenity; one that didn’t last long when the older began lazily rutting on him, right hand gripping the back of his neck.

“I blame you for it.” His tone dropped into a low, dark valley in an attempt to whisper. By the almost nonexistent distance between them, Chan could feel the rather strong heartbeat that melded with his own and the wine-riddled breath swaying on his face appeared kinder, sweeter than it normally should have.

“Tell me you missed me.” Minho murmured, lips brushing on the man’s parted ones, hands still hidden behind his waist to encourage and control the grinding of his front.

“Why?” The older huffed out a chuckle, “You don’t know it already?” Much to his dissatisfaction, the motion of his hips were stopped with a gentle hold.

“Tell me.” Minho was already panting for some reason, and even in the dark, there was an unmissable gleam in those feline, profound eyes. Earthly awareness slipped out of Chan’s mind as he lost his entire self in that willful, screaming gaze.

“I missed you,” His whisper smeared all over the younger’s face, hands traveling from his neck down to his sides, “I missed you so much, gorgeous!” Halfway through the heartfelt confession, a pair of small, warm hands flew up into his hair. Their sole mission was to initiate another kiss between the two men, this one much, _much_ more demanding and desperate, moans crammed into it from both parties.

Minho plowed at the other’s scalp, knowing full well that his neat, dark brown hair would become a mess, unfortunate if they were gonna make it back to the formal, boring gathering a few floors down; but that was the least of his concerns, now that a perky, flexed thigh rudely jammed itself between his, the older’s hands making their way back into the dip of his waist to create a suitable angle. 

He knew exactly what he was being offered; he was more than honored and thrilled about it. Tapping his tongue on Chan’s lip, he coordinated the invasion of it with the swish of his groin, unraveling a groan at the messy contact, and with the sound of teeth clashing at each other, he began landing the needy pace of his motions on his lover’s leg. They couldn’t care less about the thin trails of saliva forming at the corners of their mouths.

“You’re such a bad son,” The older bit down on Minho’s slippery, stuck-out tongue, “suggesting we should do this in your dad’s office!” With the occasional drag of the other’s loin on his hardened member, it was difficult keeping his raspy voice from cracking. He should’ve been worried about the wet stains forming on their pants, possibly ruining the fabric of expensive clothes, but just like many other concerns, that thought also shot out of his head upon hearing soft groans spill out of his lover’s mouth.

“And you’re _such_ an upstanding CFO for seducing your boss’s son!” Minho grinned, short huffs caressing at the other’s face while their noses stood two inches apart. Waves of pleasure danced around his front, where he was shamelessly rubbing his gradually erecting length on tensed muscles; the feeling was something he missed dearly, as if it had been years this contact had become forbidden for them, not a mere two weeks.

“Yeah, no, you’re right;” Chan pulled away from him, painting on a teasing smile, “I was the one who invited you to my fancy suite and wore nothing but a sleeping robe while serving you margaritas, back to back!” He lifted his brows comically, “Oh wait, that was you!” His eyes inadvertently scanned the younger up and down, the dark only allowing dim shapes and corners to be seen.

“You’re so fucking talkative today.” Minho detached from the wall to be able to grant himself some of the touch he’d been deprived of, but to no avail; the second his foot landed in front of Chan’s, he took another step back, away from him and closer to the sitting area of the big office which contained comfortable, black couches facing each other in a square. That annoying, frustrating, _fucking unsettling_ grin never left the older’s expression.

“Uh-uh!” He lifted his hands as a sign to keep the other away, “You put my career in jeopardy with your unprofessional behavior, Mr. Lee; I can’t just let that slide.” If eyes could commit first degree murder with three rounds of torture beforehand, then Minho would already be behind bars! He sighed loudly, ignoring the tingle in his tight boxers.

“Chris, we don’t have time for this…” Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he blinked, only to see his lover turn his back to him and move away, steps set towards the wide, empty space next to the bare floor-to-ceiling windows. His chest sank as the source of his pleasure and peace decided to distance himself from him.

Chan, smirking with pride and a demonic glee, could sense the holes being dug into his back as he slowly strolled to the far destination; he felt no guilt or remorse, since leaving each other hanging at any possible chance had basically become a casual factor in their secret, one year long relationship. As odd as it was, the wait, the pent up frustration, the possible occurrence of some sort of an unconventional happening –like their current plans for committing the forbidden at such a risky place, made those mind games worth every annoyance. Counting the number of shaky exhales releasing from the man a few meters behind his back, Chan’s fingers weightlessly fiddled with the study lamp on the chairman’s main desk and turned it on, his eyes narrowing at the sudden brightness, even though it was a weak light anyway.

“Such a beautiful scenery!” He breathed, finally gaining his place in front of the cool glass, with his hands buried in pockets. The tiny bright spots on several other tall buildings planted around the one in which they worked, could easily dazzle any beholder; they flickered against the not-so-dark night sky, an ocean of light dampening the black velvet above Seoul and making it lose its terrifying shadow. Immersed in that intoxicating sight, Chan momentarily forgot everything around himself, buried in a cliché sense of power upon finding himself looking down at the crowded city, standing firm on the highest floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city.

“Come –join me.” Ticking back in time and place, he turned to his lover and smiled, too sincere, too love-struck.

With the addition of the meager illumination from the study lamp, now facing each other, they both could appreciate the other’s appearance. Minho’s vintage, three piece, steel-colored madras suit fit his well-proportioned figure like it was created, inch by inch, from his measurements and the coffee, windowpane, skin tight suit Chan had chosen for this significant, international gathering was, in the younger’s head, an outfit he should wear every day, as it did his masculine curves great justice. Details were difficult to unveil through the dim atmosphere but at that point, they had each other’s beings memorized at heart; no amount of light, or its absence for that matter, could change how easily they recognized each corner of one another.

With a familiar, gentle feeling of safety flooding his insides like nostalgia, Minho left his spot near the wall and walked to the man at his opposite, soon joining him in front of the cold and seeped off of the window; it was, indeed, a breathtaking view but he could easily find a better one next to himself, being the figure of his lover partially illuminated by the distant, gold streetlights as he looked down at them.

“So,” Chan spoke up, the normal playfulness that came to his character now erased off of his tone, “concerning your misconduct, I demand compensation, Mr. Lee,” He looked to the side, at the younger who had now locked a gaze on him with a mischievous expression, “and I demand it with my own preference.” The gap between them closed once again as the older cupped his lover’s cheek and connected their lips passionately, enjoying the loose grasp on his hips while his free fingers worked the buttons open on the grey suit.

Minho concentrated on the battle between their tongues and allowed the other to take control of the remaining tasks; while he was busy eliciting low hums and sighs from his lover through the slyness of his lips, the coat slid off of his shoulder. With his eyes being closed, noises and touches were all that could provide him with data, so when a layer was pulled from under his palms and soft rustling sounds rose in a second, he could tell that they were both now stripped off of their coats.

“What would your… _preference_ be then, Mr. Bang?” The younger had realized that the best way to keep things flowing, was to just cooperate with whatever scenario his lover had in mind; it always ended up being fun, anyway.

“To fuck you against the window of your father’s office.” The reply came almost immediately, formed as a growl, slapped right at his ear when Chan had sneakily pressed his lips to it after the kiss was cut off.

Nails dug into the older’s now white-shirt-covered sides and it was the best reaction he could’ve asked for. Slowly palming his lover on the tent on his pants, he plunged his hot tongue in the shell of the man’s ear; Minho was normally so, _so_ ticklish but it turned into a sinful sensitiveness during their heated moments, and that was why when the gesture was put in motion, he shivered against Chan’s chest with a throaty exhale. They could both feel their pulses spiking in fury.

The older made his way behind his lover while still maintaining some physical contact with him. When Minho tried to turn back to face him again, a firm push kept the rotation at bay; with the man’s chest sticking to his back, he propped himself against the window by his hands and inhaled, sharp and deep, while Chan’s fingers sneaked around on his white shirt and grey vest, revealing his honey skin after unbuttoning them. It was truly a guilty pleasure seeing his lover move around subconsciously under the spreading touch on his abdomen and nipples and the older tried to sooth the quiet writhing by pressing wet kiss on the side of his neck and his earlobe.

It seemed as if they had wasted enough precious time already. Finally retreating his hands from the soft skin beneath it, Chan proceeded to fondle around with the tight grey pants his lover had on, and after the least amount of trial, he managed to rid it of its restrains and pull it down unto the thick, smooth thighs of the other, repeating the action for his moistened boxers rather harshly.

“Hold tight, baby.” His whisper lingered around in the younger’s head after he slowly descended on his knees on the cool, wood patterned covering over the floor.

The instant that a hot puff of air landed on his sacrum, Minho realized the great plan; he wanted to bash his forehead at the window from the level of excitement that idea brought him. He lightly parted his legs from each other, butterflies battling in his guts, and with palms glued to the window, he pushed his rear back for better access which was an appreciated gesture for the older, since he landed a gentle smack to the flawless skin of his butt.

Hot, soft lips tattooed strong, lingering kisses over the dip of his rear and soon, very soon, the pecks lowered unto his pulsating entrance, gaining more ardor and devotion as well as gasps and sighs released from the younger. Testing the water was over in the first few seconds and after tenderness was rinsed off of him, Chan began licking his way past the tight rim as his hands gripped tightly on Minho’s buttocks to pull them apart. Moans were what he received as a praise and he was now more determined on invading the clenching vicinity of his lover’s entrance; shutting his eyes for focus, he lightly pulled the other down on his face and sucked the muscle ring with lewd, wet noises, while his flexed tongue still dragged in and out of him. The light bang on the window was enough to signal him that Minho’s head was now leaned against the chilly glass, even though his sight was blocked by the younger’s figure.

“You’re so fucking unfair sometimes, you know that?” There was an obvious frustration in the shaky voice, which only blended into mewls when Chan managed to contain his smirk and only add more suction to his motions.

Minho snapped his neck back to let out a particularly loud groan and due to a painful need for touch, he reached back and curled his fingers into the other’s disheveled locks; there was no need for him to apply pressure though –Chan was already applying enough of that! Adjusting his lonesome arm over the window for balance, the younger swayed his hips in rhythm with the delicious penetration, surprisingly earning no restrains in return. His lover had become so shamelessly indorsed in his own activity, with soft hums leaving him, tongue pulling out occasionally to lick stripes over the tightening hole, diving back in swifter than before.

“Wanna cum like this?” Chan rasped on the wet mess he’d created, eyes finally opening to shoot upwards and catch the younger trying to look back at him.

“Only if you can make me!” Minho knew too well that that, in fact, was something he was fully capable of, but it never hurt to rile up the man’s ego just enough to have him on the rough side of things!

“Hmm, alright…” The quiet sentence was accompanied by a smirk.

Tongue once again slicking the spoiled entrance, Chan began bobbing his head fiercely, making sure to squish his lips on the burning muscles, and after a few seconds of engorging his lover, he sneaked a finger close to his mouth and added it next to his tongue with ease, allowing moisture to drown it. Soft growls filled his head as the sly duo matched their pace and thrust into the younger quickly; however, there was a secret mission for which Chan’s hand had joined the play. With every motion, his middle finger curved more and more, until it was hooked at the wet walls and then, it started to massage the spongey spot near the opening, the pace of it rough and fast.

Minho once again smacked his head against the glass with a sob, a string of curses hanging from his lips. He was way past the point of worrying about how deeply his back had arched and how much it was hurting his spine; there was one, single sensation prominent inside him and that was the building flaming pile at the center of his guts. Impatient, selfishly greedy, he needed more –he needed everything his body could handle, and maybe even more.

“Not enough—“ He mewled, “Another,” He raised his voice, “More!” It wasn’t him talking anymore; the inner demon chasing his climax was in charge now.

“What do we say?” Unfortunately, Chan had to halt his movements, pull out his tongue, to speak that low question. His thumb caressed circles on the glistening rim.

“We say fuck you, that’s what!” Minho barked, holding in the hiss that was boiling in his lungs. His annoyed thoughts were replaced by shock when a harsh slap lashed out on the sensitive skin of his right buttock; a yelp jumped out of him.

“What,” Another slap, “do we,” and another, “say?” The blank husk rising from his back was quite hard to hear past his own gasps. Thoughts being kicked out of his head with every spank, the younger panted, the cold surface providing some much needed clarity after the rush of blood lightly slowed in his butt.

“Dammit Chris, we don’t have time for this!” He mewled, weaker and higher than he intended to. The growing ecstasy inside him went colder and colder by the second, at which he groaned, but worse than that was when, by the click of his tongue, Chan retreated back from him, taking away every bit of touch in the process.

Minho wanted to protest; he wanted to turn to the man standing up on his feet, and taunt him to get his way, get his high. However, none of those thoughts became action; because right when the contact between them disappeared and the older was up-right on the floor, he yanked at the right side of his lover’s shirt to drag him behind himself, making their way from the windows to the wide, main desk. Blood was boiling viciously in Chan’s veins, his frown hidden from the other as his back was displayed for him.

“What are you doing?” Startled, Minho asked, trying not to trip with the way his pants were locked around his knees. Even lost and devastatingly horny, he could still make effort to coo over how gorgeous those black suspenders clung to his lover’s broad shoulders and somehow acted as a frame for his built backside.

With the rolling chair pushed aside after they were both behind the desk, Chan adjusted his lover’s body in front of himself without any struggle; chest pressed to his back, the edge of the desk digging into his abdomen. The older breathed in deeply the scent on the neck in front of his nose and his left hand found a way into the hazelnut locks, the other running up and down his lover’s right side.

“Apparently, your precious daddy hasn’t taught you the magic word,” He murmured right into his ear, “so I’m gonna fuck you raw, right here on his desk, so that every time you two are in this room,” He bit the tenderness of his earlobe, “all you can think of is me pounding into you right where your daddy is sitting.” Minho froze momentarily, not unnoticed by the other, but there was nothing he wanted to do in objection, “Manners, Mr. Lee; manners are compulsory.”

With that breathy statement, the younger was pushed down unto the cold, wooden surface, his hands unintentionally coming up to rest next to his shoulders; it wasn’t the right time at the moment, but he made a mental note to later admit to his lover, just how much he was loving this idea. Preoccupied with the sensation of a warm hand inching his back from under his shirt, Minho jolted when two, cold, slick fingers came down to trace the leftovers of a mess on the rim. The pair slipped in casually, giving a few short pumps to the relaxed, stretched hole while he wiggled to spread his legs further; seeing that as an invitation, as well as the tamed state of his lover, Chan exhaled with relief and pulled his caressing hand back to smear the dripping precum over his own painful shaft through precise motions.

It was finally, _finally_ time. The older rubbed small spots over the exposed sacrum at his reach and by the use of his right hand, he guided himself into the weeping entrance he had so devotedly worked on before, satisfied groans spilling into the vast room. He had done a great job, he thought; Minho was fully relaxed and opened-up for him –just him. Ears focused on filthy noises emitting from both of them, he rolled back just to invade the muscle ring again, doing so three or four more times until he deemed the younger prepared enough to receive the ruthless thrusts which came right after.

They were so damn lucky that all of their coworkers were gathered a few stories below in the hall; otherwise the mixture of their moans and the unsettling scrape of the desk over the floor, as well as the loud smack of their skins, would definitely get them in trouble, Chan more than the other. By all definition, the older was ripping into his lover while bending over his heaving figure, their fingers intertwined and hands pushed onto the surface for Chan’s balance. Now, Minho wished they were both naked, because all of that sweat was pulling their clothes flush against their skins.

In that position, it was hard to satisfy their oral fixation, as climax approached them with every perhaps too rough thrust landing on the younger’s reddened rear. Chan could practically count the number of times the hungry rim pulsated around his rock-hard length; he didn’t need verbal praises and agreements, as long as his lover’s body was this communicative about its status. There was a violent tickle licking at Minho’s insides every time the older plunged into him with an unnecessary amount of strength, and that sensation soon turned into a fierce knot. With lewd, breathy cusses oozing out of his mouth, he cried out against the wood and pressed his forehead down; mentally counting to three out of habit, he let go of his tensed muscles and released his load mid-air, climaxing untouched and in between uncharacteristic sobs.

Chan sighed in content upon seeing his lover halt his writhing eventually, recognizing from his high-pitched noises that he had reached his bliss. There was no way for him to keep moving past the tightened rim without overstimulating the other and that was a cross he had to bear in order to finish his own activity. As deep moans colored the back of the younger’s neck, Chan pressed his mouth on the dip between his shoulder blades and rocked his hips messily for a few more seconds until by the aid of slippery, squelching walls pulsating around his member, he unraveled inside of his lover with a hushed growl, joining him in a panting fit which took quite long to die down.

“I’m being sent to Milan for a few days next week,” Chan rasped away the gentle, intimate quiet, “wanna meet me there?” Chest still stuck to the younger’s back, he kissed the crook of his neck. Their fingers had lost energy, tangled between each other.

“Yeah,” Minho whispered while pressing his cheek on the cold surface, “I’ll come up with an excuse.” He didn’t even try to hold back his smile when Chan planted a lingering kiss on his cheek.

The older took a deep breath and hovered off of the other. His softened member was pulled out slowly, watching the strained entrance close around nothing, and he tucked neatly back into his clothes, quick to get to the next part –taking care of Minho. Gentle and maybe even apologetic, he helped the younger stand up straight on his feet; unlike the usual situation, he looked messy and disordered, at which Chan chuckled, but it was important to get him back into his neat appearance.

While Minho busied his hands with the task of covering his exposed parts by the undone clothing pieces, his lover went over the desk to the seating area after having spotted their coats which he had mindlessly thrown somewhere before. He grabbed his first and put it on quickly, later on passing the grey one to Minho who had now met him next to the couches with a slight, funny limp.

“Shut up before I throw you out of the window!” The younger snapped at the giggling man as his coat slid comfortably over his shoulders again. Chan could only laugh harder.

The study lamp was turned back off, the rolling chair returned to its spot; all traces of an intrusion were cleared from the face of the chairman’s office, as if nothing had happened there. The two men made their way towards the wide door and stopped right at its foot, making dimmed googly eyes at each other.

“I’ll miss you, pumpkin!” Chan murmured an inch away from the other’s mouth, their smiles equally sincere and playful.

“You disgust me, kitten, did you know that?” Minho bantered as his voice dug deeper, eliciting an airy chuckle and a firmer arm around his waist, their figures facing each other.

“It’s evident, sir, yes!” The reply earned its period in a short peck landing on his lips.

“I love you.” The younger planted a heavier kiss on his lover in return, his tone the most genuine he could muster. Chan, grinning painfully wide, caressed his temple with nothing but affection in his shadowy eyes.

“I love you, too.” Rubbing their noses unto each other, the older gulped down a content sigh and pushed Minho forward to lead him past the door; they first needed to make sure that they were still alone up here. This routine had become natural to them in such a short time and it was almost hilarious how an attempt to keep them away from each other for good, had only poured gasoline over their ablaze love, maddening the flames into a destructive, unearthly force of passion. 


End file.
